


Wash Away

by isoldembd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Showers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 23:37:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15060278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isoldembd/pseuds/isoldembd
Summary: Dean isn't coping well with having the Mark. Cas tries to help.





	Wash Away

“Cas, when can you make it to the bunker? I think Dean is going through something and he won’t talk to me...maybe you can try to get through to him?” Sam knows when his brother is having a silent war with himself. He can always see it on his face: Dean’s eyebrows stay furrowed and his shoulders are visibly tight, it’s painful to watch. Usually Sam rides it out and waits for Dean to spill, but it’s been going on like this for weeks; weeks of radio silence, scurrying into rooms, not making eye contact. Dean is not the kind of dude to run away from his problems. He faces his demons, and then exorcises them, no questions asked, he’s not afraid of anything. So, seeing him become this reflection of himself is more than a little worrying for Sam, hence, calling for backup. Sam figures, if Dean won’t talk to his own baby brother, then he has to crack under the unblinking stare of a former Angel of the Lord™. 

 

“I’m on my way,” Cas hangs up and by morning he’s marching into the bunker determined, if not more concerned.

 

“Where is he?” Cas B-lines for Sam, who has been digging around the tall bookshelves looking for anything remotely related to the Mark of Cain or the psychology of a broken brother. 

 

“He’s in the shower. He’s been, uh, showering a lot lately. Like, two, three times a day. I don’t know, Cas… something is seriously up with him. I’m getting worried,” Cas can see the bags forming under Sam’s eyes. He’s clearly been staying up trying to find answers. Cas is sure he would look the same if he needed to sleep.

 

Cas sighs, “Okay, I’ll go talk to him.” Sam nods, as he does, with that look that reads ‘I’m not sure if that’ll work, but it’s the best we’ve got right now, so might as well.’ It’s a look he’s accustomed to conveying.

 

Cas walks down the hall until he can hear the quiet  _ ssshhh _ of the water, and he can feel the steam seeping through the cracks in the door. He stands for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and think of something insightful to say, but when that proves unfruitful, he just goes with plan B, which is opening the door and walking in on a naked and tired Dean.

 

“Jesus, Sammy, ever heard of a knock?” Dean turns around, whipping water droplets onto the floor and stands silent when his eyes meet Cas’.

“Cas—” That’s all Dean manages to say before Castiel is walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

 

“Dean. Are you alright?” At the question being asked, Dean’s face goes dark and he turns back around to the showerhead. Everyday, Sam wakes up, fixes a bowl of cereal for himself, sits down at the table, looks up at Dean and asks ‘are you alright?’ Dean’s had enough. Everyone knows the answer, so why, in God’s name, do they keep asking? It’s always going to be— 

 

“I’m fine, Cas. Now, would you give a guy some privacy?” But Castiel knows the Winchesters. He knows their favorite kind of beer, the last monster they killed, and he knows when they’re lying. 

 

“No, Dean. I see you.” Cas gives Dean’s back a glare before reaching down and shutting the lid on the toilet. He starts to methodically remove his clothes; loosening the knot in his tie and sliding it over his head and laying it down, slipping his arms out of his trenchcoat, folding it, and laying it down, his shoes, his shirt, pants and jacket, neatly folded and laid to rest on the porcelain lid. 

Dean can feel what Cas is doing, but he’s too tired to give a damn. Naked or not, he knows Cas and Cas knows him, they can’t hide anything from each other for long. 

 

Cas removes his underwear and socks, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and opens the glass door to the shower. Taking a step in and feeling the wet under his feet, he doesn’t move to touch Dean or to speak. He just stands for a moment until Dean turns and looks him in the face.

 

“Cas, man, I don’t know what you think you’re doing—” And then Castiel reaches out for Dean’s arm. He’s takes the forearm that was scarred by Cain, lifting it gently, almost examining it, running his thumb over the scar itself, feeling the difference in texture, the contrast from ivory white to dark pink. Dean watches Cas looking, searching for an answer as to what he’s doing standing next to him stark naked in the shower, but comes up empty, and honestly more confused.

 

Cas drops the arm and lifts his head to look at Dean’s eyes. He can see the burden the mark puts on him, the struggle of fighting against something ingrained into your very being. And it pains him, seeing Dean so— so...sad. It’s moments like this that Cas wishes he could’ve stayed God, if only to put his fingertips to Dean’s forehead and take away the pain forever. But he can’t. So, he’s here. In the shower. Naked.

 

There’s a comfortable silence between them and the soothing sound of water hitting tile in the background. Dean can feel Cas digging around in his expression, looking for the reason he’s been so reserved lately. He hates it, he looks away hoping to break the moment, push Cas out of the shower, make a snarky comment and never speak of it again, but Castiel is more stubborn than he is. He rests a hand on Dean’s hollowed cheek, feather-light, forcing eye contact. Dean has no idea what kind of angle he’s going for, but he doesn’t think he likes it.

 

Cas reaches around Dean, grabs a bottle of Dove shampoo and pops open the top. He squirts a healthy dollop onto his hand and squishes it into Dean’s soaked hair. Dean leans down ever so slightly to give Cas the proper reach because why not. Dean isn’t one for hand holding or kisses on the cheek, but his mom used to wash his hair. It was one of his favorite things in the world, still is. She would hum as she ran her fingernails through his hair scratching his scalp softly. She’d say, “How’s that feel, sweetpea? Good?” And Dean would close his eyes and nod. 

 

It’s a form of intimacy he’s never been able to recreate. No amount of people Dean has let into his bed would ever compare to the warm bubble that fills his stomach when someone massages their hands through his hair, tugging a little and petting.

 

Cas reaches up with both hands—-he has the perfect hands for this, Dean thinks. Big and calloused and strong but gentle and caring. He pushes the shampoo around, running his fingers back and forth across Dean’s head applying just enough pressure to almost send Dean to sleep. It feels like Heaven should feel. Safe, warm, like there’s nothing in the world except for them in this moment. 

 

They stay like that for awhile, Cas shampooing and Dean lolling his head in time with Cas’ fingers. It’s nice, and it’s the best Dean’s felt ever since the mark was given to him. He’s not thinking about anything, just the feeling of Cas separating his hair and washing away the stress, if only for a moment. Dean finds himself wishing he could have this all the time. 

 

Cas stops shampooing and pushes Dean backwards under the spray of the showerhead to rinse out the suds. His face is inches from Dean’s and for a split second Dean wonders what would happen if he just leaned down and gave him a kiss. Would the Earth stop spinning? Or would all of Dean’s worries be washed down the drain with his shampoo. Before Dean can come up with a verdict Cas stops rinsing and puts his hands on Dean’s shoulders, the one lining up perfectly with the palm print he left all those years ago when their story was a simple one.

 

Dean opens his eyes, missing the comfort of the methodical circles being rubbed through his hair a moment ago. Cas looks deadly serious.

 

“Dean,” He let out a sigh, it sounds defeated, “I know that the mark is hurting you. And I know you take three showers a day because it makes you feel dirty. You can’t keep fighting battles by yourself. I’ve given everything to see you standing here, right now. Please, don’t waste it.” Cas is soaking wet at this point, too. His hair a black mop on his head, strands sticking to his forehead. Dean reaches up and pushes some of the hairs out of the way, then running his hands through until his hands land on Cas’ neck. 

 

And they just look at each other for a moment, Cas holding Dean’s shoulders, Dean holding Cas’ neck. It’s like they’re reading each other’s minds and it’s nice. It’s a familiarity that neither of them get to enjoy much anymore. 

 

Dean smiles, a little smile as if to say, ‘thank you for trying, but I have to do this on my own,’ and Cas can see that, so, he drops his hands and watches the water swim around his feet. 

Dean cards his fingers through the wet hair at the nape of Castiel’s neck before pulling him close. He wraps his arms around Cas’ shoulders, Cas letting his arms dangle at his waist.

 

“Thank you,” almost a whisper, Dean speaks into Cas’ ear, “but I can’t let you get hurt anymore because of my mistake. I gotta do this by myself.” 

And now suddenly, it seems the roles are reversed and Dean is the one comforting Cas. Everyone always says it’s hard to watch the person you love crumble into this defeated thing, like no one can help them and their fate is sealed. It’s not right and it’s not fair. 

Cas lets his head fall against Dean’s shoulder. Eventually, Dean turns around and shuts the water off, never letting go of Cas. 

They walk out of the shower together, Castiel getting a towel and drying Dean’s hair, rubbing furiously like he’s trying to start a fire, which makes Dean laugh. Dean nags the towel and gives Cas a good rub down, until they are both standing in a steamy bathroom, naked, looking like blow-dried poodles. It’s a sight, that’s for sure.

 

They put their clothes on, not rushing it, just enjoying each other’s company, thinking about what was said and what it means for them both. Eventually, they meet in the middle, fully clothed, the moment seemingly cut in half without the nakedness keeping them honest. Like they have put their walls back up.

 

“Dean—”

 

“Yeah, Cas. I know.” Dean gives a knowing look before stepping forward and placing a chaste kiss on Cas’ forehead. It’s as close to ‘I love you’ and ‘I can’t live if you’re dead’ being said out loud as they’re ever going to get.

 

Dean walks out the door and down the hall, leaving Cas standing in the steam still hanging in the air like their words unspoken. And it’s enough. He’ll make sure that it’s all enough.


End file.
